We'll Watch The World Ignite
by Ashton Lithe
Summary: The Capitol is back, the 4th Quarter Quell is here. New Tributes face the deranged Games, and only one will survive.
1. Chapter 1

My scream echoed through the crisp air. The few mockingjays that had been perched, silent and watching, squawked and took to the sky. I watched their black and white frames get smaller, a tear rolling down my face. It was almost time for the Reaping. The 100th Hunger Games, another Quarter Quell. The 11 Districts were going to be put to the test today. Two kids were going to face their death if they passed. And, of course, it had to happen on my 18th birthday.

The zip line took me back down to the tree house that I had built when I was 11. I had been disappearing there ever since when things went bad. A bag was waiting for me, along with a small note – Duncan had been here while I was at the summit. I smiled to myself as I read our code, composed of programming short cuts. I crumbled the paper and shoved it in to my pocket. I had to get back to the District to shower and get ready for the Reaping.

I slid over the high cement wall and electric fences, landing softly on my neighbor's balcony. It was much trickier getting out than coming back in. A quick shimmy down their mesh of piping and I was on the ground. Duncan was waiting for me across the street.

He was tall, lean. Blonde hair was smoothed against his forehead in a messy chop; I was always reminded of wheat that we never got to see when I looked at his light hair. His light blue eyes shone with worry as he glanced around, checking his watch again and again. He was already in his Reaping clothes. I darted across the street, arms wrapping around his waist tightly as I impacted him. His breath left in a huff. He managed to stay standing though.

"There you are, Annabelle. You need to hurry up. They're going to start going door to door soon." He hugged me back tightly, pressing his nose into my hair. He smelled like oil and metallic shavings.

"Ok, ok. You go on ahead. I don't want to get you into trouble." I glanced up at him – his face looked grim.

"You get there as soon as you can. You hear me?"

"Loud and clear." He shoved away from me, hurrying down the alley to get to the District center. I turned and rushed to my house, slamming the door shut and bolting up the stairs to get into the shower.


	2. The Reaping

I tapped my foot. The other boys looked at me, brows arching into curious looks. I shook my head at them. I had to stay focused.

There. That black pony tail and that ivory face and that black sundress and those combat boots. Annabelle was finally arriving. She pushed her way through the crowd, finding her spot amongst the 18 year old girls. I smiled at her, weight settling further on my shoulders.

"Hullo, and welcome to the great Reaping day! District 3, it is my pleasure to introduce myself as Crisso, the Escort for this District! Let us introduce our Mentor for our next Tributes! You know him, you loved watching the way he slid the electronic nets around his opponents in the 90th Games – Let's welcome the renowned Esper to the stage!" I clapped reluctantly as the crowd cheered. It had been a decade since Esper won the Games, and the time had taken a very large toll on him. He raised his hand to gather silence, though he had nothing to say. He took his seat just as quietly.

"As we all know, it is the 4th Quarter Quell this year! And we all know what that means: special restrictions have to be met! Let's take a look at this year's, shall we?" The screen that had been projecting his face blinked, shuffling through options before one final choice presented itself. Every District would have to follow it. I read the words, face paling as my brain slowly worked it out. _Fight to the death._

It took Crisso a moment to compose himself. He pulled out a sheet of paper from his breast pocket. "For this Quarter Quell, we must choose 8 girls and 8 boys. Then, they shall participate in a death match, here, without any training, to determine the Tributes." I heard parents scream in distaste. The guards were quick to hit, and the rest of us stayed silent.

I watched as he pulled names from the large glass orbs. Girls first, as was tradition. Three twelve year olds, two 15 year olds, and finally, 3 eighteen year olds. They took the stage slowly, Annabelle's face amongst them. Nobody volunteered to take their places.

"And now, the boys!" He read out each name carefully. I stared at Annabelle, the way her green eyes widened at one particular name, mouth parting to form the perfect shape of shock. Crisso repeated the name several times, and only when I felt someone push me did I understand.

"Duncan Niller, to the stage please." A rough hand gripped my arm. I looked at the ruffian – a guard. He hauled me out of the crowd; I went willingly. He placed me on the stage; I stood completely still. The last two boys followed of their own accord. I would have to kill them.

The crowd stayed silent. Crisso glanced to one of the guards, confused. One hand went up, then another, followed by two more. It was a silent prayer for us, the 16 teenagers on stage that would die no matter what. Each hand held a different number of fingers that stayed erect – coding that we used in the factories.

"Consistency."

"Flawed."

"Keep it."

"Break."

"Check it again."

The hands slowly dropped as the faces turned grim. Crisso still had a few more things to say.

"The special restrictions will begin shortly. Every one is mandated to watch. Weapons will be provided. May the odds be ever in your favor." The guards encircled the stage, pushing the crowds away to the edges of the square. A few dropped a pile of goods by the stage. Crisso and Esper hurried off of the stage, a few extra hands coming up to clear it of everything valuable. Guards roughly grabbed the girls and threw them from the platform. Men first.

A sharp whistle broke the air once everybody had been cleared out. It was our signal to begin.

I pushed the boy next to me off of the platform, jumping off after him. My feet connected with his back as I realized he was only 14. I couldn't die.

I grabbed up the first thing my fingers fell onto in the pile – the smooth handle of a spear. I lifted it easily, turning with ease. A fist connected with my cheek. I thrust towards the body, ignoring the sickening squelch of the spear impaling the stomach. Warm blood spattered onto my face as he coughed, light leaving his eyes quickly. I ripped the spear out of his body. A quick assessment showed that there already three boys dead. Four more to go.

A shoulder sent me sprawling forward. I caught myself, spinning around to shove my spear into the shoulder of the new attacker. He was my friend. His eyes widened as he died. I felt a tear roll down my cheek at the realization that I had just killed one of my closest friends. I was a monster.

**Three.**

I jumped up onto the platform, jaw set into a grim line of determination. I found one of the last three, only 12, cowering next to the wood. My fingers knotted in his shirt, making sure he couldn't get away. He stilled almost instantly. I had to make it quick, for his family. My spear sliced the back of his neck, severing the spinal cord and brain stem. He twitched once, a fully body spasm, before his heart stilled.

**Two.**

They ambushed me. One jumped on me, throwing us both off of the platform. My head hit the pavement with a sickening crack – my vision blurred. I could feel a second pair of hands yanking my spear away. Cool metal pressed against my neck. I stilled.

The knife pulled away from my skin, and the weight of the other boy was removed from my chest. I scrambled away, blinking to take a look at the scene. They had launched at each other. And they were letting me live.

I watched as they died. Collapsed, on top of each other. Their nice clothes for the Reaping day were dirtied and soiled. I cried.

A guard grabbed my arm, hauling me over to Crisso and Esper. It was time for the girls. They were all shocked at the blood shed, the bodies that littered the town square. Annabelle stared at me. I looked away. I was a monster. I couldn't face her, not like this.

I watched as they killed her. Her black hair, so smooth and nice for once, matted with her blood. I watched as they stomped her face in, listened as the horrible crunches of bone breaking filled the air. The last girl raised her hands in triumph, splashed with blood. She felt no guilt, I could tell. Her slim face stared at me, electric green eyes laughing at me. A rough hand grabbed my arm again. It was time to say goodbye.


	3. Good Byes

My brother was the one to say goodbye to me. He sat on the couch in the Mayor's office, hands wringing his shirt nervously.

"Mom didn't want to come say goodbye." He murmured. I nodded.

"It's fine, Adin. I-I was a monster back there. But I didn't want to die."

"She understands that. But it's still tough for her." I nodded again. He stood, pulling something out of his pocket. It was a small bracelet, wound from the wire that we used most often in the factories. "I-it's not much. Mom made it. She said that you had to have something to remind you of home. A-and you can use it in the Arena, if need be."

I stood, blood stiffening my clothes. I hugged him close, pressing my nose into his brown hair.

"Thank you, Adin. I'll win. I'll come back and everything will be good." He hesitantly wrapped his arms around me, just like Annabelle had done only a few hours ago. I slid the bracelet around my wrist – it stung and bit into my skin a little, showing just how sharp the wire was. "It's perfect. Be good. Keep Mom going. Don't be too upset if I don't come back."

"But you will, right? You said you would."

"I'll do my best." A knock on the door told me that our time was up. He smiled sadly at me, raising three fingers on his right hand. It was our sign to be careful. I did the same. The next person to say goodbye to me was someone I never expected. I had seen him in class before, hanging around Annabelle's locker before scampering off as she came down the hall. He held something in his hand tightly. His mass of curly brown hair hid his eyes.

"She died. You were her friend." His voice was smooth, a low tenor. I blinked at him, clearly confused.

"What?"

"Annabelle died. I can't do anything about it. But you can." He held out his hand, showing me what was in it. It was Annabelle's cross, the only thing that was a constant on her. "You can only have one token. They'll take that bracelet away. It can be used as a weapon. Or you can take this, and remember why we're stuck in this hideous excuse of a game." His words stung me. "It's true and you know it. You're fighting right? Then fight smart." He handed me her cross, dropping it around my wrist. He turned and left, without even giving his name. He was right. To win I would have to play smart, delicate, assess the situations carefully. They would take away my bracelet because it could be turned into a weapon easily, especially with my knowledge of wires and electricity. I worked it off of my wrist, dropping the shiny wire into the trash can. It was tough to part with, but I did. I slid her cross around my neck. It was a comforting weight. I understood why she wore it every day.

A guard told me that he was the last of the visitors. It was time for me to go. He held the door open for me, giving me an air of respect. Of course. I was the one that would be writing his checks – or at least, keeping the person that writes his checks amused.

I kept my gaze on the ground as we made the trek to the train. The tracks were hardly used: only for victory tours and the Reapings. Once a month, helicopters with Capitol guards came to pick up our goods. They never used trains for economic transport anymore.

Crisso escorted us on first. Esper followed behind. The girl nudged my shoulder, sly grin on her lips.

"Cheer up, monster boy. It's going to be life or death soon enough. Better to get a head start, right?" My hand reached up to rub the cross absently. My gaze hardened as I looked at her. She was slim, probably a fixer in the factories.

"You killed Annabelle." I watched her carefully. Her face showed a quick second of shock that I had paid that much attention to the girl's fight. She wiped it away easily.

"Who? Oh, the black haired girl. She was an odd one. Good riddance, I say." We had crossed into the second car by that time. The door slid shut with a thump. My hand reached across and grabbed her shirt.

"Good riddance? She was my best friend. You. Killed. My. Best. Friend." Her bright green eyes widened. Adrenaline pumped through both sets of veins. Nimble fingers ripped at my skin, trying to tear my hands away from her shirt.

"Let me go! She was going to kill _me_ otherwise! You understand!"

"Don't try to be my friend! Not after what you did!" The sound of the door hissing open was accompanied by a gasp and a scoff.

"Duncan, let go of Grace. Save it for the Arena." Tension slowly let go from my jaw. My fists unclenched, dropping her. I hadn't realized I had lifted her a few inches. She stumbled backwards, hands meeting the wall. "You'll have a week once we get to the Capitol. One day to meet your stylists, one day for the interviews. 5 days to train, gain sponsors. Save you anger for then. Now come, we have things to discuss."

Grace scampered behind him quickly. She glanced back at me every now and then, eyes keen for anything that could be amiss. Crisso ushered me along. His bright blue hair bounced in time with his flaunted steps. I couldn't help but glower at him.

The next car was the dining room. Lavish foods had been laid out – District favorites and delicacies. Small bite size pieces of bread were piled high in baskets, tall pitchers of what I knew was a pungent and heady liquid stood next to them. Thick bowls of mash potatoes and plates of steaming steaks took my attention though. It was a feast, just for us. I couldn't help but smile; they were fattening us up like pigs for slaughter. Grace had taken to a seat, small and shaking, eyes wide with fear as she watched me.

"Come, come, Duncan. Sit, eat, be merry." Crisso's invitation fell upon my deaf ears as he slid out a chair. I stood. I had already been looped into this mess – I wasn't going to get in over my head.

"No, thank you. I ate before the Reaping." Fingers grabbed my skin and propelled me forward. Esper. He forced me into a chair, sitting next to me and rapping my legs with his cane.

"Lesson One: Keep fed at all times. If the other competitors don't kill you, starvation will. Lesson Two: When someone tells you to do something, do it. You are not a Career, you are not a brute. Neither of you will be able to force your way through this. You will only be able to win through cunning." He picked up a dish of something, passing it to Grace. "Drink."

She looked at it, clearly confused. It was a broth of some sort, caramel toned and fragrant. Her cautious sip was followed by greedy gulps. A thick crack filled the air, accompanied by her yelp and the shattering of the dish.

"Lesson Three: Do not be greedy. If you take what isn't yours or more than your share, someone will kill you. A busted shin is the least of your worries right now." I blinked. Esper had hit her? What sort of Mentor was he? I stared at Crisso, expecting him to do something about it. He sat, fat and silent, indulging in the food.

"So what," I started, "you want us to keep fed but to not eat more than our share?"

"Exactly." Esper's voice stiffened the hairs on my neck. "Now tell me, what do you favor for weapons?"

Grace piped up, clearly wanting to make up for her mistake earlier. Another sharp crack filled the air. She silenced herself, gripping at her leg underneath the table.

"Well, Duncan? What do you favor for weapons?"

"I don't fight."

"Do you die?"

"No."

"Then you fight. Stand up." I did as per instructed, not wanting to have a busted leg. He gave me a once over, lifting my arms and tugging my shirt up.

"Flimsy. How is your dexterity?"

"I work in the factory. I know how to disassemble things." He hummed to himself.

"I saw what you could do with a spear. No use teaching you to throw something, so the javelin is out. There would be better archers than you any day in the other districts. Fire arms, though talented with them, would be useless to you. Too dangerous, even for the Arena." I stood stock still as he mused, circling me again. "What angle… What angle…"

"Monster boy," Grace spat. "The others will have watched the Reaping. They'll see the way that he attacked the other boys."

"Too straightforward." Esper glared. "Scared. Unsure of how to react. Primal… Hmmm…." His cane connected with the back of my knee, pushing me forward. "Eat. Grace, get over here."

I ignored the comments he made as he did the same for her, getting a better idea than from me. He sat her back down in a similar fashion. I tore into the flesh in front of me – steak melted on my tongue into a mess of flavor and gravy. I piled the bread high with mash potatoes and devoured it easily.

It didn't take long for Grace and I to be completely stuffed. Esper told us that unlike previous Games, we wouldn't be able to study. The Capitol had destroyed all of the tapes of the previous games. There were no records, other than the plaques that gave the winners. Crisso showed us the rooms on the train that we would be staying in. I collapsed onto my bed, not even bothering to shed my bloodied and dirtied clothes. The pillow caressed my face as unconsciousness took over me.


	4. Nightmares

Annabelle grinned at me. We were in the forest, a rare event for both of us. We had hidden away the night before in the tree house, giggling and reciting poems to each other. She was a romantic at heart, toughened and bruised by the factories and industrial life.

A crisp breeze picked up her black hair and tossed it around her face. A few Mockingjay's chirped a song she had been singing earlier back to us. It was peaceful, quiet.

"Duncan…." She murmured, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. I smiled at her from my spot on the ground; I could never stay sitting or standing for long.

"What? Nobody's going to catch us."

"No, not that." Her pale lips pouted, torn between a grin and a frown. "We've gotten through so much."

"Yeah? Yeah, we have. Come on, cheer up. It's our last year to be in the Reaping. We can get through this."

"But- no, you're right. I should stop being such a downer." Her giggle pierced the clean air. I smiled at her again, hand reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.

"You're forgetting something, silly." I chuckled, sitting up. She blinked at me, large eyes wide and curious.

"What's that?"

"Today. It's Valentine's Day." I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small box, tossing it in her lap. Her cheeks painted a bright red, smile flashing at me.

"Thank you. I really did forget." I watched her open it, waiting to see her reaction. It was her cross. _I had gotten it for her_.

Her arms wrapped around my neck out of delight. I enjoyed the warmth of the hug, pressing her close to me.

"I love it. Thank you, Duncan." I picked up on the tinge of sadness in her voice. "But a dead girl doesn't need jewelry."

Dead weight hit my chest. Darkness crept into the corners of my vision.

"Annabelle? Anna? Come on, don't say that, wake up." I shook her, not wanting to believe it. "Anna, wake up. Come on, you're not dead. Come on, stop it, you're not funny." I watched, completely aghast, as her head flopped back, eyes cold and dead. Her neck was bruised, blood coagulated around her nose and lips, arm hanging at an awkward angle. "Annabelle, Annabelle, come on. Stop it! Stop it! You're not dead! Annabelle!"

I woke in a cold sweat, her name on the tip of my tongue. My clothes were stiff with grime against my body. An Avox stared at me from the doorway, towel gripped tightly in his hands. It took my mind a second to process where I was, that Annabelle really was dead, and that I was being escorted to mine.

"Sorry. Bad dream." The Avox nodded. Of course he wouldn't answer me, he had no tongue. He sat the towel at the end of my bed and pointed to a small door before leaving. It had to be the bathroom.

I couldn't look in the mirror. I covered it with the towel while I ran the shower, struggling to get my clothes off while the steam filled the room. My forehead hit the cool tile of the shower stall, hot water almost stinging as it poured over my back. I stared at the dirty water at my feet, watching the dirt and blood muddy it. And for the first time in forever, I cried.

I cried for Annabelle, for Mom and Adin, for the girls and the rest of the boys that had died too early; I cried for the rest of the Tributes I would be facing soon, for Esper and those that he had seen killed- but mostly, I cried for myself.

I scrubbed my skin raw, like that would do anything to cleanse myself of the killing that I had already done. Like it would help in any way. I knew it wouldn't.

The towel was soft and warm by the time I was done. I padded out of my room with out it, not caring at all. The closet was open by the time I got there, comfortable and expensive looking clothes hanging for me. I didn't care about looks. I picked an outfit at random, pulling it on without thought.

Esper was at my door a few minutes later. He told me it was time for breakfast and that I couldn't miss it, not today.

I collapsed into a chair, ignoring the bowl of porridge in front of me. Grace floated into the car a few moments later, all smiles and cheer. She chirped a good morning to us before sitting down carefully.

"What got into you?" I muttered, glaring at her. "We're going to our deaths and you're chipper and full of manners? Pretty messed up."

"Might as well go out happily." She batted her eyelashes at me. "And you might as well go out a strong man. Wouldn't want to make your brother see that you're just a coward."

My chair clattered to the ground. "What the fuck did you just say?"

"Oh, so what, you're not a coward? Sure seems like it." I lunged across the table at her, tossing bowls and food across the length of it. My hands wrapped around her neck.

"What the fuck did you say? I'm not a fucking coward. I don't weasel around a subject just to irritate someone." My thumbs bit into the hallow of her neck. "I'm not a fucking coward. You are."

Esper's cane hit my back with a loud crack. I was forced to let go, whirling around to face him.

"Duncan. Go clean yourself up. Come back after you're done."

Esper was sitting alone when I came back in clean clothes. He tapped his cane against the floor as I shuffled in.

"Sit. We need to talk." I nodded, taking the offered chair quietly. The table was completely clean save for several leafs of paper. Esper blinked at me, looking older than he really was.

"If you cannot learn to work with Grace, then you are going to have to kill her."

His words shocked me.

"What?"

"You heard me, Duncan. She's ruthless, when it comes to cunning, that is. She won't let you get away alive. I honestly have very little faith in her. She's physically weak and will use the Careers to do the killing for her. It would be a mercy to die at your hands." I stared at him. He was basically giving me the okay to kill her, a girl.

"B-but… Esper. That's not- You're our mentor, you're supposed to give both of us the best chance of survival we can get. I-I don't understand."

"Duncan. That is her only chance of survival." He stood slowly, leaning on his cane. "I know what I'm doing. It's what Annabelle would've wanted."

I sat in a shocked silence as the door hissed shut behind him. Annabelle… It had been a day since her death. The hot sting of tears pierced my eyes, and I quickly shook my head to chase away the thoughts. If I didn't win for my family, I would win for her. Nobody deserved to die, not like this, not like the way she did. Not without choice.


End file.
